Coming Down on Me

Mechanical clouds,

the pendulum to the pit

sink lower and lower.

Since I was born,

the threat of water has

been as a canopy above me.

My diving gear is holey.

Nothing breaks down

With a promise of pain.

My lungs will fill as sponges,

And then there will be

the catharsis of pressure,

the implosion as the

weight of water lays on me

like caramel on whipped cream.

Like Caramel

Mechanical clouds,

the pendulum to the pit,

sink lower and lower.

Since I was born,

the threat of water has

been as a canopy above me.

My diving gear is holey.

Everything breaks down

with a promise of pain.

My lungs will fill as sponges,

and then there will be

the catharsis of pressure,

the implosion as the

weight of water lays on me

like caramel on whipped cream.

Forgive me if I’ve already posted this. I don’t mean to spam you. I lost my place in my document and I’m not sure exactly where I left off.

Tang of Chlorophyll

Flowers coagulate in the

living room you can’t see

because I have strung ten thousand

chandeliers from the foil ceiling.

The season is polished,

a wave of salt rolls over

the soil at the other end of the street

but here is nothing but

the tang of chlorophyll and breath.

Enclosed in my equatorial dress,

I am as a letter to the star,

whose power I painted

electrical in a posh home,

mixed media mural on my ceiling,

cheap imitation regality.

The ground shakes.

The scent of salt

blossoms from the door.

Tears in my pale eyes,

petals shriveling.

And still my lights do not

go out.